


Alike In Sorrow

by The13thBlackCat



Series: Maker, Know My Heart [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7161815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The13thBlackCat/pseuds/The13thBlackCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets regarding the angstier aspects of Cullen and Maenfen's relationship which are too small to stand separately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_How long until Cullen succumbs, to the lyrium and to who he truly is? A week, a month, a year? You didn’t **really** think he loved **you,** did you? He’s a Templar, and he always will be, no better than they were. And he’ll use you, just like they did._

_Just wait long enough._

Maenfen stared at his ceiling, his hands pressed to the center of his chest under the covers, and wished it was morning. In the morning, there would be something— _anything_ —to do, to keep him from thinking. He already couldn’t sleep because he was thinking too much, and because he knew too well what lurked in the Fade.

 _It lied,_ he reminded himself firmly, _that’s what demons do. They **lie.**_ The elf swallowed, closing his eyes tightly. _It can’t know any of that. It **lied.**_

“It _lied,_ ” he repeated aloud, barely a whisper. His voice sounded uncertain and weak, and he _hated_ it.

He threw the covers back suddenly, sitting up with a harsh breath. The elf dressed quickly—just enough to be presentable, if anyone else should be awake—and stalked out of the room, leaving his staff behind.

He tried to keep his mind blank as he crossed Skyhold, and thankfully nobody else was around to delay him. It didn’t occur to him that it was too late for anyone else to be awake when he slammed the door to Cullen’s office open, and for a moment he swore in his head—until Cullen looked up at his desk, startled, and began to stand, beginning, “In…Inquisitor?”

 _Of course you’re awake,_ Maenfen thought, for just a moment, before he crossed the room to Cullen and hugged him tightly, burying his face in the human’s shoulder. Cullen started in surprise, but before he could say anything, Maenfen whispered:

“Tell me you love me.”

It didn’t come out right—too choked, too tight, too _desperate._ Even muffled against Cullen’s shoulder, he sounded like he was on the edge of tears. In a way, it was almost funny; after all, he _wasn’t_ about to burst into tears, was he? He hadn’t cried in years.

_Right?_

“Maenfen—“ Cullen cut off almost as soon as he said his name. A second later, he slid his arms around Maenfen, sliding his fingers into his hair.

“I love you,” he said, his voice soft. He pressed a kiss to the side of the elf’s head, and Maenfen made a harsh little noise against him. “What’s wrong?”

Maenfen swallowed at the question. He should’ve known Cullen would ask—of course he would. Who _wouldn’t_ ask? He pushed himself away reluctantly, letting out a harsh breath and turning away so Cullen wouldn’t see his face. _Don’t let him see you acting hysterical. **More** hysterical. You’re better than this._

“It’s nothing, Cullen,” he began, but before he could finish Cullen took hold of his arm. Maenfen glanced towards him, and Cullen reached up to cup his fingers around his jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of Maenfen’s mouth.

“Don’t lie to me, Mae,” he said, his voice soft. Then, a little teasing: “You’re not very good at it.” Maenfen smiled for a moment with a little derisive snort.

“Better than you think, ser,” he answered, and it came out more bitter than he meant. Cullen didn’t seem to care, though, tilting Maenfen’s chin upwards and bending to kiss him.

“And not as good as _you_ think,” he said simply. His forehead bumped against Maenfen’s. “What’s wrong?”

Maenfen let out a breath. He didn’t answer immediately, sliding his arms around Cullen and burying his face against his shoulder again. He smelled warm and comforting and _safe._

“Nothing,” he said again, adding before Cullen could protest, “just…nightmares.” In the back of his mind, he chuckled a little at that, even though it wasn’t funny. Still, it was true, more or less…and it was an answer that Cullen wouldn’t pry about.

Cullen made a quiet sound in his throat at that, sympathetic and understanding. He pulled away a little, just enough so Maenfen had to look up.

“Well, if you can’t sleep, I suppose you could always make yourself useful and help me.” He cocked his head towards his desk and the paperwork neatly arranged across the top of it, the corner of his mouth lifting a little. Maenfen suspected there was a joke Cullen was about to make regarding himself and desks, but he just chuckled, wearily, before the human could put it to words.

“Gladly,” he said, pulling away from Cullen and stepping towards his desk. _Anything to distract him._


	2. Chapter 2

   Maenfen jerked awake with a gasp, his breathing coming hard. He was distantly aware of Cullen moving beside him, saying something—“Mae?” his voice sleepy and confused—but that wasn’t important. Maenfen was out of bed and across the room in a moment, flinging his balcony doors open.

   He closed his eyes against the cool night air, trying to slow his breathing and focus on where he was, what was real: _Skyhold. This was Skyhold, not Kirkwall, and he was safe here, and—_

   His head jerked up when someone touched his shoulder and he pulled away instinctively, until he realized who it was: Cullen, half-awake and looking at him with—

   Concern. _Concern._ He was safe here, and _Cullen_ was safe. _Safe,_ he repeated in his head, firmly.

   “Maenfen?” Maenfen blinked a few times at his name. “What’s wrong?”

   He shook his head, letting out a harsh breath and turning away, back towards the balcony. His hand was still on the door, and he realized after a second it was shaking. He took a breath, letting it out slowly; it helped, a little.

   “…nightmares, Cullen,” he said simply. “Just…nightmares.”

   Cullen touched his shoulder again, lightly, and when Maenfen didn’t pull away he took hold of it gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

   “No,” Maenfen said, choking out the word with a harsh, short laugh.

_You didn’t **really** think he loved **you,** did you?_

   He swallowed, gritting his teeth against the thought. He took a breath, then continued, “But…maybe I should.” _That **thing** was not going to beat him down that easily._

   “Okay.” Cullen squeezed his shoulder gently, then pulled him away from the balcony door. Maenfen let himself be tugged back to bed, letting out a short breath when Cullen sat down beside him and brushed his hair back. “What happened?”

   “It was…” Maenfen swallowed, rubbing his arms nervously so his hands had something to do. Magic was pulsing under his skin, lightly, but he could almost feel it against his fingertips. “It was…back in Kirkwall. Before we met.”

_He’s a templar, and he always will be, no better than they were._

   Before Cullen could say anything, Maenfen let out a harsh breath, then continued, “It was wh-when…” He trailed off a moment, realizing slowly his hand had gone from his arm to his chest, his fingers absent-mindedly rubbing his brand as if he could rub it away if he tried hard enough. He swallowed, closing his hand against his chest. It still shook. “…when I got this,” he finally managed, barely even a whisper.

_And he’ll use you…_

   “Except,” he added after a second, “It wasn’t….it wasn’t Finley.”

_…just like they did._

   “…it was you.”

_Just like they did._

   Maenfen swallowed, staring across his bedroom and waiting for Cullen’s response, his heart pounding. And even though he _knew better,_ something in him was terrified he’d finally done the wrong thing—the one thing that would make him lose Cullen. Before he could think about it too long, though, Cullen cupped his hands around his face, forcing Maenfen to look at him. Maenfen’s eyes dropped almost immediately, though he didn’t try to pull free—until Cullen’s lips brushed his forehead in a kiss so soft and gentle and unexpected that it made him look back up in surprise.

   “I’d never hurt you, Mae,” he said. “You know that?”

   “I…” Maenfen swallowed, then nodded, once. “Y-yes.”

   “Good.” Cullen pulled him forward, into his arms, and Maenfen let out a short breath. “Because I love you, Maenfen. I love you, and you’re the most important thing in the world to me.” Maenfen swallowed again, burying his face against Cullen’s chest— _safe,_ he told himself again, and this time it didn’t sound like he was trying to convince himself—and sliding his arms around him. Cullen kissed the top of his head, then added, softer, “It was just a dream, Mae.”

   Maenfen laughed at that, short and humorless. “They’re never _just_ dreams, for us,” he said, his voice muffled, and Cullen made a quiet, unhappy sound.

   “I know.” He kissed Maenfen again. “But it wasn’t real. That’s what matters.” He pushed Maenfen back, just a little, and brushed his fingers across his cheek before pressing another kiss to his forehead. “ _This_ is.”

   Maenfen closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a slow breath. Finally, he nodded, and when he’d opened his eyes again Cullen had broken into a little smile—still worried, but relieved the worst had passed.

   “Good.” He cleared his throat, then added, “Now, can I close the doors? It’s letting all the cold in.”

   Maenfen laughed shortly, dropping his head against Cullen’s chest briefly. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

   “Don’t be.” Cullen kissed the top of his head again before gently pulling away. Maenfen ran his fingers through his hair as his commander went to close the balcony doors, focusing on his breathing. By the time it had evened out, Cullen had returned, sitting down next to him again and gently pulling Maenfen against his side.

   “Do you think you can sleep?” The rest he didn’t say— _I can stay up, if you need_ —but Maenfen knew it anyway.

   “I don’t know.” He let out a breath. “Maybe. I can try.”

   “Alright.” Cullen bumped his nose against the side of Maenfen’s head, kissed him, then pulled away to move to the other side of the bed. When Maenfen slid back under the covers, Cullen pulled him close, nuzzling the top of his head lightly and brushing his fingers through Maenfen’s hair.

   “I love you,” he said, softly, and Maenfen smiled.

   “I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

   "...though all before me is in shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond." Cullen took a breath. "For there is no darkness in the Maker's light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

   He paused for a moment, wetting his lips, and wished the prayer brought him comfort, as it once had. But now...nothing seemed to help calm him, right now.

   "A prayer for you, ser?"

   Cullen raised his head as he heard Maenfen approach, soft steps on the stone. He let out a breath, letting his shoulders slump and his hands fall.

   "A prayer for those we have lost, and those I am afraid to lose." His voice broke, just a little, on the last few words. He wasn't sure if Maenfen heard, but suspected he did. The elf was nothing if not frighteningly observant.

   "You, ser? Afraid? I'm not sure I believe it." Sure enough, there was a softer tone under the teasing in Maenfen's voice, a gentleness that he used more often now. Cullen exhaled harshly, staring at the flame of one of the candles in front of him.

   "Of course I'm afraid!" His voice sounded harsher than he meant it to, and for a moment, he thought Maenfen might realize how worried he truly was—until he realized that Maenfen, of all people, knew him too well. Of course he must realize. "Corypheus possessed that Warden at the Temple of Mythal. What else is he capable of?"

   He looked up, raising his eyes to the statue of Andraste, and Her face was serene. He wished he could find that sort of calm, himself. "It's only a matter of time before he retaliates. We...must draw strength, wherever we can."

**_If_ ** _we can. If **I** can._

   He stood, letting out a breath, and turned towards Maenfen. He said nothing when Cullen approached, just looking at him quietly, big-eyed and beautiful. Cullen reached up to brush his fingers over Maenfen's cheek and the elf tilted his head into his touch, a moment before Cullen gently cupped his face.

   He swallowed, just looking at Maenfen for a moment: sweet, beautiful Maenfen, who loved children and the wonders of his magic, who had seen too much and suffered too much, who had never enjoyed conflict and, yet, was the strongest man he knew despite that. Maenfen, who he loved more than anything else, and who was the only man who could do this.

   He let out a breath, letting his hands drop from Maenfen's face and stepping away. It didn't help, like he'd hoped it might. "When the time comes, you will be thrown into his path again." Cullen closed his eyes, swallowing. "Andraste preserve me, I must _send_ you to him."

 _And if anything happened, it would be my fault._ How could he survive that?

   "Cullen." Maenfen's hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Cullen turned slightly to look at him, chest aching. The elf smiled, but it was the worried sort of smile. "Don't worry about me. I've survived worse than anything he can throw at me. You, of all people, should know how lucky I am."

   Cullen laughed shortly, but it was more bitter than he meant it to be. "That is...less comforting than I would hope." He reached out to take hold of Maenfen's hands, running his thumbs along the backs of them—and the glowing slash across his left hand, bright in the darkness—before Maenfen pulled free to put his arms around Cullen in a hug.

   Cullen swallowed again, harder, and squeezed his eyes shut, pulling Maenfen to him as tightly as he dared and burying his face in his shoulder. He smelled like herbs and lyrium and dust, and he was warm and solid in Cullen's arms: alive, and _safe._ _For now._

   "Whatever happens," Cullen whispered against him, "you _will_ come back." _You have to._

   "Of course I will," Maenfen answered, his voice muffled against Cullen's shoulder. "That's the plan, ser."

   Cullen laughed quietly. "Good. If anything happened to you...I _can't..._ " He let out a breath, shaking, and tightened his hold around Maenfen—as if, by holding him tightly enough, he could keep him safe.

   The elf pulled back a little, enough to take hold of Cullen's face. "You won't." He pressed a kiss against the bridge of Cullen's nose. "I'm not going anywhere, Cullen. It will take more than Corypheus to change that."

   Cullen swallowed, keeping his eyes closed as Maenfen's forehead pressed against his own.

   "Maker, I hope so."


	4. Chapter 4

   Cullen hadn’t been sleeping well ever since they’d found Solas, almost two weeks ago. Not _because_ of Solas—though he hardly helped anything—but because of Maenfen. The harsh reality of how _close_ he’d come to death was plenty of reason to keep Cullen awake, even if he was safe now in Skyhold. The fact that he’d been hurt badly and now had to adapt to the loss of his hand was enough to practically guarantee his commander—his _husband—_ wasn’t going to be at ease for a while.

   So, it wasn’t really surprising that Cullen was already half-awake when Maenfen got up.

   He had the feeling the elf hadn’t been sleeping either—there was something tight and tense in how he’d been all evening—but he hadn’t pried, and he told himself it was probably just a very reasonable response to the stress Maenfen was dealing with. When he didn’t return, though, Cullen pushed himself up, glancing around the room in concern.

   Maenfen was at the window, arms wrapped around himself as he stared out into the night. Cullen watched him for a moment, and when Maenfen didn’t move, he shifted to stand, gently nudging Duff aside with his foot.

   “Mae?”

   The elf didn’t look up when Cullen spoke, but his ears twitched. Cullen reached out to touch his shoulder, but the elf half-turned the second his fingers brushed his skin. He told himself it was his imagination when he thought Maenfen shrugged his hand off.

   “What’s wrong?”

   Maenfen swallowed, but didn’t look up at Cullen, his arms tight around himself with his left tucked protectively against his chest. It was a habit he’d picked up since…well, in any case, Cullen supposed it was a perfectly reasonable response, considering what he'd been through. Even if he didn't really like it, because it reminded him too much of the Maenfen he'd known in Kirkwall.

   “Do you actually want to be with me, Cullen?”

   The question was soft and so absurd that for a moment Cullen wasn’t sure he’d heard right in his half-awake state. He blinked a few times in response, then finally managed, “W…what? Mae, of _course_ I do! What…”

   “You could have anyone, Cullen,” Maenfen cut him off, his voice tight and trembly. Cullen closed his mouth, silent for a moment. He took a breath, then turned Maenfen towards him gently. The elf didn’t look up.

   “I _chose_ you,” he answered, quiet, tilting Maenfen’s chin up. The elf looked up at him finally, his eyes shining in the dark, biting his lower lip in an attempt to keep hold of his control.

   “You chose me _before,_ ” he whispered, making a short, sharp gesture with his left arm. Cullen blinked, then his expression softened when he realized the problem. He took hold of Maenfen’s arms, his thumb tracing the scars on his left—they looked like the scars Cullen had seen on templars before, ones who had fought apostates fond of electrical magic: branching, feathered lines that reminded him of ferns and were almost _pretty,_ as scars went. On Maenfen, they extended all the way up past his elbow, almost to his shoulder, and stood out a stark, pale pink against his brown skin.

   “Mae, shh.” He pressed a kiss to Maenfen’s forehead. “I don’t care about _this._ What does this change about you?”

   Maenfen let out a short, sharp little laugh that didn’t sound amused. “Well, there’s the obvious,” he answered, a little harsh. “Maker knows I’m not as pretty anymore.”

   Cullen let out a little breath, sliding his hand up to cup around Maenfen’s face. The elf met his eyes again, reluctantly, and before he could look away Cullen spoke.

   “Maenfen. Do you remember what I told you on our wedding night? About the very first time I ever saw you, back in Kirkwall?”

   Maenfen’s eyes dropped. “Yes,” he answered, very quiet.

   Cullen nodded. “Tell me.”

   Maenfen looked back up at him for a second. His pupils flashing green in the dark for a second when he dropped his eyes again.

   “…I was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen,” he whispered, his voice cracking a little. Cullen nodded, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes, gently tucking it behind his ear.

   “Yes. And you still are. A few extra scars and a missing hand isn’t going to change that. And even if it did, it wouldn’t matter. You are _mine._ It took me ten _years_ to get you, Maenfen. I’m _never_ letting you go.”

   Maenfen swallowed, sniffing hard and reaching up to rub his eyes. He took a breath, then began, “Cullen…I…I just…” He swallowed again, like he was trying to choke something down. “I’m s-sorry, I—“

   Cullen pulled him into his arms, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “Shh. It’s okay. What is it, Mae?”

   Maenfen bit into his lip, _hard_ , then let out a harsh little breath. He refused to meet Cullen’s eyes. “I j-just, I kn-know I’m not the s-same as I w-w-was, and I d-don’t want…I don’t want to be a _burden_ t-to y-y-you, a-and you’re so g-g- _good,_ I d-don’t want you to think you h- _have_ to s…to st-stay b-because… _b-because—_ “ His voice has gone high, now, his hand clenching against Cullen’s chest. Cullen brushed his hair back behind his ear and Maenfen cut himself off, whimpering and biting into his lip again. He didn’t resist when Cullen tilted his chin up, but his eyes remained lowered. Cullen kissed his forehead again, threading his fingers through Maenfen’s hair and pulling him close.

   “Those were the vows I made, Maenfen,” he said, and for a moment, he was surprised—and grateful—at how steady and assured his own voice sounded. “To be here, no matter what happens. I meant every word then, I do now, and I always will. _Nothing_ will change that, do you understand me?”

   Maenfen’s eyes lifted, bloodshot and glistening with tears. He was still biting his lip, and Cullen brushed his thumb against it, gently easing it out from between the elf’s teeth; Maenfen let out a shaking breath, then swallowed again.

   “…I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible. “I j-just…I…”

   “I know,” Cullen cut him off. “I know, Mae. I know it’s hard right now. But don’t worry. I’m not going to leave you, and you’re not a burden. Don’t you ever think you are.” Before he could try to argue, Cullen kissed him softly. “Next time something is wrong, tell me. I hate to see you hurting like this.”

   Maenfen swallowed again, then took a breath and reached up to rub his wrist against his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I…I’m trying, Cullen. I promise I am.”

   “I know,” Cullen answered with a little nod, kissing his temple. He let out a little laugh and hoped it didn’t sound too forced. “Believe me, I know how stubborn you can be. I don’t have to spend an hour prying now before you talk.”

   Maenfen choked out a strangled laugh and Cullen brushed hair back with his fingers, nuzzling against his forehead. “Alright, Mae. That’s enough of that for one night. Come back to bed.”

   Maenfen just nodded, letting Cullen lead him back to bed. He pulled the elf tight against his chest before pulling the blankets up to his shoulders, making sure Maenfen was as warm and safe as he could possibly make him.

   And maybe he imagined it, but Cullen liked to think the tension had drained out of Maenfen as he settled, burying his face in Cullen’s chest.


End file.
